


the world turns but we don't move

by EclipseWing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Everyone has some sort of criminal skill, Gen, and alcoholism, and together the pack form a gang of thieves, warnings for mild descriptions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3673392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclipseWing/pseuds/EclipseWing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s not a bank or safe that they can’t break into.</p><p>In which Beacon Hills is the Gotham City of crime and the Pack are the best group of thieves the town has ever seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the world turns but we don't move

It's the bane of his career. It's the one thing he's never going to be able to solve. The one case that remains sitting on his desk, staring at him long past the time he should have gone home to his empty apartment.

They call themselves the Pack, and they're the best group of thieves Beacon Hills has even seen.

It's his case. It's been his case since he first sat down and began piecing together the robberies that developed into fraud that evolved into art and diamonds and anything expensive. He's watched the group develop, getting better and better, always one step behind them. It's been his case right from the start, and he's not going to let it slip out of his hands. Screw the FBI, he's not going to let this one go that easily.

Beacon Hills is a mine of organised crime. It's gotten worse over the years, and it's not quite Gotham-city level of bad, but Rafael thinks it's quickly heading that way.

And in between the mobs and mafia and drug rings and gangs the Pack move in completely their own circle, fiercely independent and stronger for it.

They're the bane of Rafael's career, but he's not going to let it become the case he never solves.

 

Derek Hale is a police officer turned private investigator in his free time. It had never been planned, but one day a man had turned up, asking question after question after long-winded question about a group of crimes. Derek turns him away - he can't just go about sharing information like that with a civilian.

But the man is persistent.

"Why?" Derek asks, "Why so curious about these robberies? They're not even connected."

"The Pack," the man says, "they're all done by the Pack, and you know it."

And of course Derek knows who the Pack are. At least, he's heard of them, but nobody knows exactly _who_ they are. Only three members have been caught on camera before, and that was before someone got into their systems to wipe the data clean.

So now Derek is curious. "What do you know?"

The man looks tired, and he rubs at his forehead, eyes drifting to an empty beer bottle with longing before he turns away, gaze fierce and protective, "My name is Sheriff Stilinski," he says, "And I'm looking for my son."

 

Stiles Stilinski comes from a dead mother and a drunken father. He's far too clever, too impatient, too quick-witted for school to handle, and that's before the mental breakdown. By the time John Stilinski (ex-cop, ex-alcoholic) pulls himself together enough to realise that his only son might be dying from the same disease that took away the mother, it's too late. Stiles hasn't been in Eichen House for weeks.

"He's all I have left," Stilinski tells Derek with a heart-broken expression. And surly, detached man that he is, even Derek can't turn away. He knows what family means, and he treasures the few members that he has left. Laura was killed last year in a gun fight that broke out downtown. Cora still has nightmares about the fire that took their family away. And Peter…

Peter Hale smirks at the picture, leaning back in the chair in his too nice apartment and nods. "I know the kid."

Stilinski keeps shooting Derek looks that vary from confused to shocked. The suave blonde haired blue-eyed man in a v-neck shirt has far too much money, even considering the insurance money and the cash deposits the Hales used to have before their tragic demise.

Peter's cash has not been obtained legally. Derek _knows_ this, for a fact.

He's just never been able to prove it, and thankfully he doesn't think he'll ever be able to.

Peter's too good for that.

"When?" Stilinski sounds like a desperate man, throwing his cards down on the table for Peter to examine with a critical gaze, "Where? Where is he?"

Peter picks up the picture, before with a flick of his wrist sending it skidding back across the table to slide up in front of them, Stilinski Junior's face staring up at them, "I usually deal with his twin," he says, conversationally, "But you don't really see one without the other nowadays."

 

"Lydia Martin," Derek finds the girl his uncle described to them. She's pretty, a small red-head with green eyes and long curling hair. She's clever too, a genius with a 5.0 GPA, rich parents and acceptance letters from all the top Ivy League Universities, "She was all set in life," he tells Stilinski, "But then there was an incident. An alleged stalking and rape, but they weren't able to press charges. Her life spiralled and she was checked into Eichen House a month or so before your son," he looks up, and the older man already knows what's coming, "She vanished a few weeks later."

 

Everyone knows of the Twins. They know their names, even if they don't know that if you pay them enough, the pair can rob anything from anywhere.

Stiles made his first con when he was nine and he framed a bully for the theft of some exam papers. Lydia, when she was ten started up her long term façade of the clever, beautiful but empty headed queen of the school. They're both good at acting, at being underestimated. They use it too their advantage and even now he and Lydia like to play the little lost kid act, with big eyes and long lashes. They occasionally play the crazy kids in love, but usually stick to orphaned siblings, so often they forget they're not actual siblings.

They met in Eichen House. They didn't get on at first. But then: "You stole his keys," Lydia corners him one day, "You stole the orderly's keys, that was good, really good, I almost didn't notice."

"Malia helped," Stiles shrugs, "How did you know?"  
"Because," Lydia grins, holding up something for him to see, "I stole his taser."

It's easy then. They work together and it's easy. It's like breathing.

They escape together, with the only hitch being Stiles' tag along. Malia Tate spent has lived in the woods since she was nine years old, and she thinks like a wild animal. She's fixated with Stiles, and she follows them like some sort of pet right out of that hell hole. She's coarse and rough but her instincts for survival are damn near perfect. She's their warning, their guard dog back during their first few small time heists.

They never get caught, and that's just the start.

 

Peter Hale pays them good money to do a job and do it well.

Then again, they do all their jobs well. That's why he uses them after all.

There’s not a bank or safe that they can’t break into.

"You promised twice as much," the kid - a tanned brunette - glares at Peter. The guy looks like he belongs in the dark alley behind the bar.

"I'm keeping it," Peter says smugly, "Payment for covering for you. There's a cop on your trails. Asking questions about the twins."

"We had an agreed price," Scott repeats.  "250k before, 250k after."

"You know, now I think about it, I may have mentioned how they can contact you," Peter frowns up at the light polluted night sky, "Don't you hang around that bar - 'The Loft' - on Tuesday nights?"

Scott doesn't look intimidated, "250k. You can pay us, or we can pay ourselves."

"Please tell me it's the latter," another voice says, and Peter grimaces as Scott holds up his phone. He glances down at his chest, at the small red dot hovering there.

"Fine," he snaps, "Tell your sniper to stand down." He pulls out another bundle of notes.

"It's okay, Ally," Scott speaks into the phone, and even over speaker phone, the sigh of disappointment is obvious.

"Here I was hoping to give this baby a nice warm up."

 

Allison meets Scott three blocks away after confirming he wasn't followed. There is a bag slung over her shoulder, a new sniper rifle she picked out for herself last week. She claimed it was a later birthday present.

"Okay?" she checks with Scott. The pair are a bit distant. He and Allison are on one of their 'off' periods and in his free time, Scott had been wooing this girl in the upper town - Kira Yukimura.  Scott could charm old ladies out of their purses (young ladies, young men, even the occasional old man). He's kind and approachable and too damn good to be doing this kind of job.

"It went fine," Scott says, awkwardly, the pair lingering.

"It better have gone okay," Isaac's voice crackles in over the ear pieces hidden in their ears, "I'm waiting outside."

The blonde is waiting where he says he is, unobtrusive van parked on the curb. His story is similar to Stiles' - dead mother and drunk father - except Stiles' father never locked him in the freezer. Scott slips into the front while Allison takes the back. Stiles is already there, a laptop open in front of him.

"There's a cop on your tail," Allison tells Stiles, "You and Lydia have to be careful."

"Aren't we always?" Stiles grins up at her. Allison was a surprising addition to their team. Scott had been Stiles' friend since childhood. Isaac had known them all from high school.  Even Danny, who they called in when Stiles couldn't overcome a new-fangled security feature, had been Lydia's best friend before everything happened. Allison however is the unknown, the new kid. Her family are rich, her grandfather a wealthy businessman and her aunt and father deeply entrenched in some business nobody has ever actually put a name too, other than it involves espionage, assassins, weapon deals and that they expected Allison to follow in their footsteps. She catches them when they're stealing a necklace from Kate Argent, and she lets them go on the condition that she could come with them.

She's the muscles, the weapons expert. It's rumoured she once walked into a bar unarmed, survived a gun fight with twenty armed men and walked out, the only one conscious ("I heard it was twenty five," Isaac frowns. "Nah," Allison looks up from where they hadn't realised she'd been listening, "It was only twelve. But there was a machine gun as well.")

"So what's the next joint?" she asks Stiles, but she's really asking Lydia, who's probably already in place.

"Peter Hale has a vault beneath a high school," Lydia's voice sounds in their ears. She likes to be the one with the plan, the one in charge, but usually ends up leaving it up to Isaac half-way through while she and a few others go in. Isaac has a talent for monitoring everything and somehow he gets Malia in the right place at the right time to distract everyone and blow up the right bank vault. He also drives their getaway car like a pro, which is to say he succeeds in making Stiles throw up every single time.

"Beneath a high school?" Stiles repeats, frowning, "Who keeps a vault beneath a high school."

"I think the vault was there first. But that's the issue. He can't get in anymore. And since the land isn't his, neither is the vault and everything in it."

Stiles cracks his fingers, "Well, better get to work then."

 

Rafael's no longer on the Pack case. He hasn't been on the case since the cameras caught a shot of two people claiming to be parents being shown around the local high school. A day later, there is an outbreak of an unknown disease that kills nobody, and by the time the CDC have worked out that despite the worrying symptoms, it's harmless, there's a hole in the basement an empty room with nothing in it, other than an empty safe. Whatever was there is already gone.

The couple scoping the place were caught on camera. The red head is an unknown, her back is to the camera like she knows it's there, and the only reason they even had a picture of the other guy is because a worried teacher who suspected abuse and bully had illegally installed a secret camera that wasn't on record.

It's Scott. He hasn't seen his son since the custody mess years ago, but Rafael would know his son anywhere. His ex-wife lives downtown, and she manages with extra shifts and the money Scott sends back to her. "He moved out," she says with a nostalgic smile, "He does alright for himself though."

"We're taking you off this case," they tell him, and hand him a new file. Two criminals, each with a vendetta against the other. "Jennifer Blake and Deucalion. No last name."

"What do we have on them?" Rafael relents for the time being. But he hasn't forgotten the Pack. And it's still his case, except now it's even more personal.

"Plenty, allegedly. Nothing concrete. But two bodies turned up the other day, looking like they were torn apart by wolves. Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd."

 

Erica and Boyd were friends of the Pack. Informants. Street-kids who went about their lives unseen until suddenly they found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Isaac is dry-eyed but Allison hugs him anyway, "We'll get them," she promises.

"They'll burn," Stiles agrees with her, glancing at his sister whose grin is frightening in the shadows.

Deucalion and Jennifer are so, so screwed.

"They'll never see us coming."


End file.
